


Fight Because You Don't Know How To Die Quietly

by VeryCoolKid69



Series: vehement [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Exile, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by Poetry, Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Threats of Violence, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Swears (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29272737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeryCoolKid69/pseuds/VeryCoolKid69
Summary: “I wouldn’t be like this if I knew how to not be like this, okay?” Tommy snaps, “I had to fight like fucking hell since I was a child, and fighting like hell made me what I am.”Dream remains silent.“I don’t want to fucking bow to you anymore. I rather die standing up to you, then live the rest of my fucking life kneeling before you.”An arrow presses itself to Tommy’s chest.Shit.// Or, in which Tommy stands up to Dream. Dream couldn't care less.(Or, in which the author accidently deleted the original one and had to fucking reupload it. Oops.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: vehement [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091294
Comments: 4
Kudos: 132
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Fight Because You Don't Know How To Die Quietly

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not have accidentally deleted this and now have to repost it 🧍

Tommy hated being exiled. 

There was something about the aching loneliness of the woods, when Wilbur went back to L’manburg because he was bored, when Dream couldn’t even bother to come back and patrol the area to make sure he didn't leave.

When the rest of the SMP grew without him, leaving him in the dust as they flourished.

It was times like these Tommy considered just going back, even for a second, just so he could see what the new L’manburg was like. Just so he could see if the snapshots Wilbur brought back were real, just to see if Tubbo really did grow, just to see if his friends were okay.

Maybe this time he would.

Afterall, it’s been a week or so since he’s heard from anybody. Even Wilbur hasn’t returned from his weekend trips, and it was starting to worry him. Afterall, it’s not like Wilbur died, he’s already dead, he doesn’t have an excuse.

So where the hell was he?

...

Probably thriving right now, in the SMP, with people he has nothing but positive memories with. Maybe he’s friends with Dream, best friends even, maybe he’s talking to Technoblade, maybe-

Maybe he’s just tired of Tommy. Tommy sure as hell is.

So Tommy packs up a backpack. He’s fucking tired of this place, he’s fucking tired of listening to Dream, he’s fucking tired. He’s going to leave or die trying.

When he catches a flash of neon green outside his base, it looks like he may be dying. Oh well. He finishs packing up, taking his sweet time. Better to spend his (potenial) last living moments annoying the fuck out of the man who caused all this shit. He tries to sneak out the back door, maybe Dream won’t see him and he’ll have time to make a break for it-

“Tommy.”

Dream was stood in the garden-barely a fucking garden now, more like weeds-his mask menacingly staring him down with a blank smile.

Tommy didn't even flinch.

“Dream,” he uttered, almost flinching at how broken his voice was, It’s been a while since he used it, honestly, maybe it’s been more then a week since he saw Wilbur. Time’s fucked up here, like a clock that’s tuned all wrong.

Dream notices the dead tone immediately, tilting his head in a way to show his interest. A bad habit of his, to show his emotions in such obvious signs in casual conversation. Sure, the man can be stoic as fuck when it counts, but years of having to show his emotions through body language makes it a hard habit to break.

“Where are you going?” Dream’s back to his dead face, but Tommy can tell he’s amused. By what, he cannot tell, but Dream has a certain tone he uses when he’s entertained. Tommy wishes he knew what was so funny.

“Home,” he spits, looking to the ground. He couldn’t bare to look at the man, even when he knew that body language would be his key to victory here. He already knew what Dream was doing, a questioning shrug of the head and a hand on a weapon. It’s what he did every other time Tommy stood up to him.

“Home? You’re already here Tommy, your home is right behind you,” Dream says mockingly, and Tommy knows Dream’s offering a last ditch out. Where he could turn around and go back ‘home’ and say oops, how silly of me, you’re oh so right Dream.

Tommy’s never taken that opportunity before, and he’s sure as hell not starting now.

“This isn’t my home,” he spits like venom, “My home is L’manburg. My home is with Tubbo. My home is my discs.” He knows he’s playing a dangerous game. Dream is in full netherite, and Tommy has poorly wielded iron. Dream has crossbows and axes, Tommy has a hand made sword. Dream is a god, and Tommy is a boy. Tommy knows he’s handing out his heart here, but he can’t help but hope maybe this god is forgiving. 

And Dream fucking laughs.

“Oh- Tommy! You’re banished, Tommy!” He wheezes, cackling like it’s the funniest joke he’s ever heard. “You’re never going back! They don’t want you!”

Tommy fucking snaps.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you stupid fucking bitch! This is all your fucking fault! If you-If you didn't-” Tommy chokes on his words, and Dream fucking laughs again.

“Now, now, be civil Tommy, and maybe I’ll consider letting you in a hundred feet of the Dream SMP.”

“I am being PERFECTLY fucking civil!” He screams, “You’re the villain here! I want to go home! I’m going home, I have all my shit packed, I’m going home!” 

Dream stops laughing, Fuck, that’s even worse.

“No you’re not Tommy.” 

“Yes, yes I fucking am.”

“No,” Dream’s tone edges on dangerous, “No, you’re not,”

Tommy looks up to Dream’s soulless mask. It’s stare bores back, taunting him. “And what are you going to do about it?”

The sounds of a loading crossbow answers Tommy’s question. 

“I’ll kill you.”

“I’m on my last life,” Tommy challenges, but he can’t help the quiver in voice. Dream never cared for that kind of stuff. Dream would kill him, and Dream would move on. Such are the ways of old Gods, they do not have the empathy to care for such trivial things.

Dream scoffs. “You know, it’s your fault.”

That makes him freeze. Dream notices.

“If you weren’t so fucking brash, so prideful, so annoying, none of this would’ve happened,” Dream pauses for a second, waiting to analysis Tommy’s reaction. He remains frozen, and he continues, “You’re always like this. You never learn, you never listen, you never-”

“I wouldn’t be like this if I knew how to not be like this, okay?” Tommy snaps, “I had to fight like fucking hell since I was a child, and fighting like hell made me what I am.”

Dream remains silent.

“I don’t want to fucking bow to you anymore. I rather die standing up to you, then live the rest of my fucking life kneeling before you.”

An arrow presses itself to Tommy’s chest.

Shit.

“I could tear you apart if I wanted,” Dream comments, as if his finger isn’t wrapped around a trigger. As if that isn’t the most terrifying thing anyone has ever said to him.

“You could,” Tommy sneers, “But you wouldn’t.”

Dream doesn’t laugh. “I can and I will. Watch me, Tommy. Watch me.”

“You’re not a nice person, are you?” 

Dream remains silent. 

Neither of them say a word. The arrow is razor sharp, already torn through Tommy’s shirt and leaving a small cut on his chest. It bleeds steadily, dying the dirty shirt a pretty red. 

The silence is suffocating. 

“I need to kill you,” Dream whispers with shaky hands, the shaking crossbow leaving more cuts on his stomach. The shirt is dyed faster.

“I’ll survive. Somehow I always do.”

“You didn't the first time.” And the worst part is, Tommy knows he’s right. He’s died this exact way before, so long ago. Dream had no probably killing that child, and he will have no problem killing this one. Tommy’s going to die here, from one well placed arrow to the stomach, and he wouldn’t have even made it home one last time. Just to remind people he was still here. 

No will will grieve him, because they would've forgotten about him. Either that, or that’d live in some cruel fantasy that he was alive and well in his new home, unknowing of the rotting corpse with the arrow in the ribs. Tommy was nothing but a memory, a hero to some and a villain to others. He will never be a sixteen year old in anyone’s memories. He will never be a friend. He will never be a child.

“I’ll visit you, sometime,” Dream promises. “I will continue to watch you rot away, even if it’s more in a literal sense this time.”

“You get off on some weird shit, man.” Tommy’s poor attempt at a joke makes Dream huff a laugh. 

Another beat pasts. “I’m not going to be kind with this Tommy. I will be brutal. I will let this death be painful.”

“I know.” He’s known. He’s known for such a long time. 

Dream takes a hand off the bow, and for a moment Tommy hopes. Instead, he removes his mask, and instead of showing a painful, regretful expression, a joyful smirk plays on his face, his eyes wild with adrenaline. A terrible last thing to see.

The trigger is pulled without a second thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you'd like, make fun of me for deleting it, whatever.
> 
> Thanks for (re)reading!
> 
> (Follow my tumblr if you want, verycoolkid69)


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